The Rest of the World
by Cobainlover4ever
Summary: As Jerome and Stephen navigate what it means to be in love, but still remain strong individuals, they receive some valuable help from their elders. This story contains the character of Jerome from Peter Greenaway's film; "The Pillow Book." Jerome is such a layered character I want to explore what makes him so special.
1. Chapter 1

**The Rest of the World**

"That was an absolute shit show!"

My anger and I explode through the front door leaving Jerome lingering undecidedly in the foyer.

"When will you get it, Jer? What's it gonna take before you stop trusting every-fuckin'-body in the world?"

"Stephen Joshua Lowe!"

My mum has impeccable timing for being in the right place at the right time as far as chastisement goes. It could be any other day when Jerome and I come through that door laughing and falling about. Mum would be out shopping, or working in the garden. But, when her youngest son needs a good, swift, metaphorical kick, she's front and center.

"I don't know who you presume to be entering this house with such foul language."

She assumes the position. Arms folded stiffly across her chest, trainers planted firmly on the carpet, eyes shooting darts of fire!

"It's my fault, Mrs. Lowe,"

Jerome's sweet, apologetic voice levels the palpable tension.

"I did something stupid."

"Jerome," Mum's tone softens with the mention of his name. "There is not one thing you could possibly do or say that would allow for t _hat_ kind of outrageous display."

Mum regards me as if Norman Bates has replaced her son.

"Explain."

"I…I should go."

Jerome's nervous stutter is working on my heart. I'm starting to feel like I don't have one. How could I make this gorgeous boy grieve?

"Jer," I've taken the volume down several notches. "You live here. Where're ya gonna go?"

"I'll g-g-go to the library."

"What am I hearing?"

Enter Zayde clasping a newspaper in his already ink-stained hands.

"Jerome, my boy, it is Shabbat. You must read to me from the weekly Yiddish news. You should go now?"

God bless my Zayde in his faded, orange cardigan and his love for everything Yiddish! This is like a song of the siren to Jerome whose eyes brighten.

"Y…Yes, I would l...love to!"

"Ah!" Zayde folds an arm over Jerome's shoulder. "Come, we go into my room so we should not be disturbed."

"Don't forget to take something to snack on, you two."

Mum's offer is totally for Jer and Zayde. I'm sure if there was a box of rat poison she might volunteer that to her belligerent offspring.

"You and I need to have a wee chat, don't we?"

She takes me by the plaid sleeve and leads me to the couch. As if I really had a choice in the matter!


	2. Chapter 2

"Mum," I hold up both hands in surrender before my arse hits the couch cushion. "I'm really sorry about the swearing."

She is not yet appeased by my remorse.

"What if Gemma were about? You'd be in heaps more trouble than you are now, I can tell you."

"Gemma?" The words fly before my brain can shut down my mouth. "You should hear the stuff she says!"

"Things aren't looking good for you right now, Stephen."

"Yes, mam."

She has successfully instilled a little of the fear of God in me. But, mum is not without compassion. Her kind, brown eyes regard me. I'm no longer Norman Bates.

"I suspect your anger had something to do with Jerome?"

I nod.

"You two had a row?"

My index finger picks at the skin under my thumb.

"Not in the way you think."

"And how is that?"

"You think we had a...a lover's spat."

Mum scares the bejesus out of me when her head tilts back, her long ponytail making contact with the back of the sofa. She's laughing!

"Oh, Stephen, you are your father's son to be sure."

"Is that good?"

"It's one of the reasons that make you lovable at times when I'd rather throttle you."

I've just about skinned my thumb when mum rests a hand over mine.

"Tell me what happened."

I glance over and I'm assured she's friend, not foe. Her eyes are absent of anger. Her ability to pardon the stuff her kids do to royally piss her off, makes her my Zade's daughter. She has his great empathy.

"It's Jer," I blurt out with a mixture of sadness, fear and irritation, "Nothing I do or say gets through to him. You'd think having Isabel for a mother-"

"Let's not go down that road now."

Mum and I share a keen dislike, I'd say hatred, but mum would never admit to hating anyone. We come as close as a tick on a dog's belly to wishing Isabel was erased from Jerome's life. But, even that wouldn't be satisfactory. The damage inflicted by this cruel woman was done years before mum or I could have intervened. Even with my mum effectively kidnapping Jer and brining him to ours to live can't erase the pain he has endured. But, Jerome plays deaf, dumb and blind to that part of his youth. He wouldn't say a bad word against Isabel if he was faced by the inquisition.

"But, mum, maybe that's the reason," I'm thinking out loud. "Maybe Jerome is so damn, uh, excuse me, darn naïve because of the twisted stuff she did to him."

"Stephen," Mum's got a theory. I can tell by the way she purses her lips before she next speaks. "Never confuse any of Jerome's sweetness with Isabel. It is _despite_ that woman's machinations that he is such an extraordinary boy."

"Well, he's also clueless, and if he doesn't wise up, it's gonna get him killed, or at least terribly hurt one day". A thought, the very one that sparked my earlier rage re-enters my consciousness. "What if I'm not around to protect him, mum? What will happen to Jer?"

I swallow back the intense emotions clutching my throat. When I picked up the card Jerome had carelessly stashed in his notebook I knew immediately what it meant.

"You must give him some credit, sweetheart-"

I don't think twice about interrupting my mother. She gives Jer too much credit.

"Mum, you haven't experienced it. These people spy Jerome coming from a mile away, they smell him, like feral animals their prey."

"What people are you referring to?"

Anxiety cracks her voice. She isn't little Nell from the country, so I'm gonna give it to her straight.


	3. Chapter 3

"Christ, what a morning, huh?" I down a substantial gulp of coffee. "I still say it was you who forgot to set the alarm."

My knee bumps against Jerome's under the café` table. He's eating a powder covered donut with the elegance no teenage boy should possess. I'm waiting for him to cut the damn pastry with his knife and eat it with a fork!

"I don't accept the blame." He's glancing over his homework. "It's your house, your room, your clock. I'd manage to get myself to school just fine, fuck you very much."

"Uh huh," I grab for Jerome's notebook. "Don't hope for a BAFTA. You suck at acting."

While Jerome is clutching at the air to regain the book I'm waving over the table, a small, white card flutters onto the smooth marble surface between us. I snatch it up.

"What have we here?"

Jerome's complexion is more pallid than usual. This card is either a surprise for me, or something to do with him that Jerome doesn't want me to learn about. I flip the card over to its embossed front. The name; _Frederick Bruce_ is typed next to the sketch of a long-lens camera, under that is Frederick' address and phone number.

"What the hell is this?" My appetite takes a nose dive. The sickening sweet scent of doughnuts is making me nauseous. "Where did you get it?" I rifle the questions in rapid fire, "when?" "From whom?"

"Give it here,"

Jerome's demand is polite yet firm.

"Not until you tell me the deal."

"There is no _deal_ , Stephen. And even if there was, I don't owe you any explanation."

"Then why are ya trying to hide it from me?"

"Because I know…Jesus!" he mutters under his breath, "You would read countless, diabolical reasons into a simple gesture, that's why."

"And what _gesture_ did Mr. Frederick Bruce make towards you?"

Our legs knock again as Jerome crosses his.

"Quite a nice one, actually. This morning when I was walking to school, this man, Mr. Bruce stopped me and said he was a photographer. He commented about my solid bone structure, uncommon features and-"

He notices my not so subtle eye roll.

"And he gave me his card. He said if I ever wanted a free photo session to test the waters, I should give him a call."

"Test the waters?" I finger the card roughly. "This perv actually said those exact words; _test the waters?"_

"Well, gee, D.I. Lowe, I can't swear to those exact words. I would have made an official record had I known I was going to be questioned."

"Don't act like you're a worldly wiseass, Jer. It's because you're a doey-eyed little ingénue that these kinds of things happen," I pause to take a hit of water. "And will continue to happen until something awful results from your stupid innocence."

He gets up without a word, gathering his backpack and jacket.

"Where are you going?"

I snap, my elbow almost resting on half of a doughnut.

"I have a lot of homework."

I shove my chair out and grab for my jacket.

"It's Friday."

"I said I have a lot, didn't I?"

"So, you're gonna completely ignore what I said?"

"I think it best."

"And Frederick, do you think it best to schedule a photoshoot with him?"

I don't wait for a reply. I shred the card like an impudent child, tossing the pieces on the table.

"Since it's Shabbat, I won't invite you to go to hell, Stephen," Jerome heaves open the door to the café, "but you understand the sentiment."


	4. Chapter 4

"Photoshoot my arse!" I spout off to mum. "You and I know what that guy wanted to give Jerome!"

Mum sighs, running her hands the length of her jeans.

"We can't reach a sure conclusion."

"What? So, you'd have no problem with Jerome arranging a meeting with that creep?"

"Of course I would, neither of you should be arranging meetings with strangers; male or female."

"That's just it, mum! I get this instinctively. Jerome is like a stray puppy. He doesn't suspect anyone of being the dog catcher. But one day soon…"

"I understand, hunny, I do." She squeezes my hand. "But, you're not going to convince Jerome of anything by berating him. Do you realize how often you question his judgement? You have no hesitation confronting him about his decisions. How do you think that makes Jerome feel?"

"Ah!" I've stopped listening. "You're saying this because he's your _un ange blonde_."

"Yes, Stephen, he is."

She's getting up from the couch! I can't believe my eyes. Lizzy Lowe doesn't back down this easily.

"You want to know why? Because Jerome sees the good in everyone. He'd never want to make the mistake of distrusting a person who was truly in need of help."

"What's that got to do with a pervo on the street?"

"You don't know what Jerome had concluded about that encounter. You didn't give him the chance to tell you. Am I correct?"

Man! The woman is good! She ought to set up a table at the market and read cards, or tea leaves.

"Before you snap to a conclusion about the person you supposedly love, I suggest that you have a respectful discussion with him first. Jerome wouldn't afford you any less."

My head is hung low. Talk about suffering the slings and arrows. Mum landed one right in the center of my heart. I don't even notice Jerome pad into the living room.

I hear mum speak.

"Did dad fall asleep on you again, dear?"

"Oh, yes." I can hear the shy smile in his voice. "It's O.K. I don't take it as a commentary on my reading skills."

"Sweetheart, you're wise beyond your years."

I look up to see mum kissing the top of Jerome's golden hair.

"I suggest you two go upstairs, unpack your books and make yourselves presentable. You have about an hour before dinner."

I'm a sack of potatoes.

"Stephen," mom hauls me up by my arms then holds me in an embarrassing, but much needed hug, "upstairs with the both of you."

 _~Break~_

"Your zayde was quite lively before he conked out."

Jerome has returned to his cheery self, as if I hadn't been a major prick to him.

"He said I'm making definite strides in my Yiddish."

He perches on the edge of his twin bed. A tidal wave of awareness almost knocks me to my knees. Jerome truly can't see himself the way the rest of the world does! Or maybe he only sees the Jerome of evil Isabel's twisted mind.

"Jerome," I find myself on my knees facing him. "You know you're the best, fuckin' person in the world, don't you?"

"Don't swing the pendulum so far, Stephen. I can't keep up."

"You're right," I grab his knees. "I'm a dick of epic proportions; I'm…I only…"

He cocks his head to one side. I want to know precisely what he's thinking, feeling, I want to crawl inside his heart so I can speak my words of apology and deepest love.

"Stop," he rests a hand on my head. He's a benevolent prince and I'm a lowly peasant. "Put today behind you. I have. Maybe you were right."

"No, _no!"_ I grab his hands. "Don't give me credit for being an asshole."

"I was merely about to suggest that you may have been right about me forgetting to set the alarm." His radiant eyes shine in the fading daylight. "Maybe things would have been much different if I had."

"Jerome, don't go away from me," my lips are wet with tears as I press them to his cheeks. "I only want to protect you like you deserve to be."

My hungry, desperate mouth pulls at his. My kisses are violent with the passion I feel for him. Jerome struggles to breathe while I unbutton his shirt. My fingers probe his soft, cool skin. My tongue moves from his lips, to his neck, slowly tracing a line down his smooth chest.

"Stephen…"He offers a faint protest when I undo and unzip his trousers. "We can't now."

I balance myself on my forearms so I can hover over this extraordinary being laid out before me. I bring my mouth back to his to convince him with more delving kisses.

"Shh…" I slowly stroke between his legs. "It's a blessing on the Sabbath."


End file.
